Page 37 of Fumbled Beginning

She groaned. “That was before I saw you freshly showered, wearing nothing but a towel.”

“Would you like me to drop it?”

Her soft laugh floated through my kitchen. “Maybe after breakfast.”

I turned my back and faced the stove to hide my hard-on. I was a strong man, but I only had so much restraint. My cock was throbbing, and I was half-tempted to throw her over my kitchen countertop—again.

“You shouldn’t tease a man like that,” I said, keeping my eyes on the griddle. “Especially since he’s one second away from dragging you back into bed.”

“It’s cute that you think you’re in charge.”

Setting the spatula down, I stalked toward her. “It sounds like somebody needs a reminder.”

She dragged her finger along my exposed shoulder. “Maybe I do.”

“Woman.” I leaned back and pointed the spatula at her. “Sit down and stop tempting me.”

“Fine.” She huffed in annoyance. She was so stinkin’ cute. “But only because it smells so good in here, and I’m hungry.”

She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. I could feel her eyes on my back, so I might have used a little more muscle than I needed to when flipping the French toast in the pan. I’ve never been more thankful for all the extra work I put in at the gym.

Rylee stared down at her coffee cup. “Do you want to talk about the elephant in the room, or just keep avoiding the conversation?”

I made a show of glancing around the kitchen. “I don’t see an elephant.”

“JP,” she sighed, “we need to talk about this.”

“Says who?” I slid her plate in front of her and crossed my arms.

“Sit down and be serious for a second.”

“Rylee.” I walked to her side of the table and sat beside her. “Let’s not define this or overthink things, okay. We both wanted what happened last night, and I really hope it will happen again. We don’t need to complicate things.” I leaned forward to brush my thumb along the bottom of her chin. “I told you last night that I’ve wanted you for a while now but convinced myself I could never have you.”

She pursed her lips. “Because of Maverick?”

“Partly yes.” I held out my hand, and she took it. “There are things I’m not comfortable talking about, but I want to be as truthful as I can with you. I carry a lot of baggage, Rylee, and I’m not even close to being ready to unpack it.”

“JP, we all carry baggage.”

I shook my head. “Mine takes up too much space in my mind. That’s why I avoid relationships. It’s not fair to my friends, my family, the people that are close to me.”

Her eyes softened, and I saw a hint of pity there, and I hated it. “Look, I’m not a psychologist okay, but even I know that storing any type of emotional baggage away doesn’t makeitgo away. At some point, you have to deal with it.”

“That’s just it, Rylee.” I turned her hand over and linked our fingers together. My palms were starting to sweat. “I haven’t dealt with it. I’ve gone out of my way to avoid it. I’ve spent my entire adult life putting a certain image out there that I wanted people to see. I smile when I’m supposed to and laugh when it’s expected. Pretend to be happy even when all the energy is sucked out of me. I ‘fake it till I make it’, but with you, things seem real, and I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

She slid her free hand over my lower back. “You will never have to pretend with me and just so we are clear, you better not ever fake anything with me either. Regardless of whether or not anything comes out of this, you can always trust me to be real with you too.”

“What exactly isthis,Rylee?”

She blew out a long breath and looked away. “I don’t know yet.”

“Me either, but how about this,” I tilted her face to meet mine, “why don’t we figure it out together? One day at a time. No labels, no expectations. Just two people trying to figure their shit out.”

I could see her overthinking and worried I’d said the wrong thing. This was uncharted territory for me, so I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. The look she gave me did nothing to calm my nerves.

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to respond to that. It’s one thing if this is just sex, but I’m not sure I could handle walking into your house and seeing some bimbo sitting on your lap. I’m just not made that way. And let’s be real here, you’re not known to be an exclusive type of guy.”

“Says who?” I drew back, offended. “You’re basing this assumption off of an image that I put out for the media and the public. I just told you that’s not the real me. My feelings for you are authentic. There is nothing fake about our interactions. I’ve been candid with you, and I can assure you that there won’t be any other women.”

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